


Dear M

by paperbluehyacinth (infiniteleecity)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Crime fic, M/M, Road Trip, Secrets, letter-format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteleecity/pseuds/paperbluehyacinth
Summary: It wasn't clear what really brought them together. Was it the fact that they were both wanting to go to a museum despite not having a pass to enter? Whatever the reason was, the bottom line is it brought them together. What is clear is why they stayed together. They shared a secret -- a secret you really shouldn't be telling anyone if you were thinking straight.But however obscure the secret is, or how clear (or not) their heads were, it was now their secret to share together. And maybe it was this shared secret that made them fall for each other in the end.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Kudos: 17
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	Dear M

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time ever writing something like this, which made it sort of difficult. I also found it hard writing a summary, so forgive me for that awful summary. 
> 
> Thank you to little wonder mods who are always so amazing and so great at what they do!

**_Dear Mark Lee,_ **

During the past few days, I have been alone with my thoughts. There were a lot of things I started to remember — mostly things about you and me.

I remembered the day we met. We didn't know each other then, but we eyed each other from across the street, exchanging knowing grins. With a nod, we locked hands, pretended to be a couple and snuck into a museum tour. You questioned why the security was so bad when they're supposed to protect millions of dollars of art. I told you that they didn't care about protecting the museum itself, just as long as the artworks were secured. You laughed telling me that the security around the paintings were probably as bad anyway.

That was the first time I was determined to do something for you. I didn't even know who you were.

"Our names are sacred, and our secrets to keep," you said when I asked your name in that museum. "I'll tell you when you tell me yours." I called you Ethan, and you called me, Robert. Those were the worst names we could think of, but you liked the anonymity, and I was starting to like you.

You stopped in front of a painting of Rembrandt. "His name is synonymous to 'masterpiece'," you said. I looked at the painting. There was nothing really great about — given, I'm not really great with art. But you talked about the painting with so much passion. I did listen that day, but I could never really remember what you said. I remember you said how nice it would be to have a painting like that at your house, and maybe I wanted to give you one.

Eventually, when the tour was coming to an end, we decided to leave together. You brought me to your small apartment, and we decided to grab a drink — or four or more. How much alcohol did we drink?

As the night grew darker, and we lied side by side, I told you a secret. A secret that really shouldn't be told if I was thinking straight, but I wasn't. So I told you my biggest secret. I thought you were going to kick me out but you just laughed. You told me your secret — the secret that really shouldn't be told if you were thinking straight.... but we weren't.

That night, we didn't just share secrets. We shared our first kiss.

You finally told me your name, Mark Lee.

I told you mine.

"Most people call me Yukhei, but you can call me Xuxi" You smiled and repeated my name over and over again, wanting to get used to saying it. I can tell you that I never got tired of hearing you say my name.

That same night, when you fell asleep in my arms, I went out to get you something. You woke up to me hanging a painting on your wall. I tried to be quiet, but how quiet can you get when you're hammering a nail to the wall?

"Why are you hanging a painting on my wall?" you asked me, your voice hoarse. You hadn't completely opened your eyes yet, but you rubbed your eyes, staring at me curiously.

"You told me you wanted a painting at your place," I answered. You grimaced, teasing me for remembering.

Finally, you got up your bed to stare at the painting. It wasn't Rembrandt, but it was still a painting, nonetheless. You loved it and kissed me again.

Later that day, you told me you wanted to do something for me — or for us.

"Let's go on a trip."

"And where do we go, Mark Lee?"

"Anywhere," you said with a knowing smile.

So we packed our bags and all our things and left. We left the painting, unfortunately. It was just too big to fit in the car, but Mark Lee, you promised me we'll go back for it. I still hold you to that promise. 

For the next three days, we just drove around. We didn't want to stop anywhere where we know we won't stay anyway. But we did check out tons of convenience stores? Who knew we’d pass by so many. 

Remember that watermelon we got from one of the stalls. I was asking for directions, and you were supposed to be in the car, but you said it was too hot inside, so you decided to look through what the store had to offer. I turned my back from you for a second and the next thing I knew, you were already hauling a big watermelon to the back seat of the car. 

We played songs in the car, songs we couldn’t sing but sang anyway. On the second night, ‘The World is Ours’ by Volunteers started playing, and we belted it out, until our throats were sore. 

You continued singing it even when you dozed to sleep in the passenger seat. 

Who knew three days in a car would be so memorable? I never liked being in cars too long; I always found myself getting sick. But with you, it seemed like a breath of fresh air. Mark Lee, everything with you was heaven on earth. 

Eventually, we found ourselves in a small town. You wanted to stop there because you read they had a waterfall in a cave that you wanted to see. 

We checked into a small bed & breakfast which really only had two rooms — one for the guests and the other for the owners. I told you it was better to stay at a motel, but you insisted that you didn't want to stay at those places, especially not knowing who was there before us. I consented only because the owners promised not to bother us as long as we paid. We never paid, but it's not like they actually caught us. You told me they never actually check their credits at the end of the month. Besides, you promised we wouldn't get caught.

I realized you made so many promises to me. I don't hate you for not going through with any of it; the circumstances just didn't let you. Besides, you still have that one promise — that I'll go home to you or you to me. I'll wait for that Mark Lee.

Anyway, I was supposed to recall our trip together. To be honest, I don't know why I'm doing that. Maybe because I want to believe that I still remember — or that I don't want to forget. Despite everything that happened — where we are now — those days with you were the best. If I was asked to repeat only a handful of memories, our time together would be what I'd want to recall. Maybe that's the reason why I'm writing this. If I write it, and repeat it over and over in my head, then maybe I won't forget.

I hope when you read this, you'll also remember all of our memories.

Anyway... where were we?

Ah! The cave!

Ha. Even now I'm a blabbering mess. 

We didn't go to the cave at first. You didn't want to start with it because it could have ended our trip preemptively because we would have nowhere else to go to. You also didn't want to go there last because... well, it might be too late. So we decided to put it in the middle of our itinerary.

The first thing we did was to explore — mostly restaurants. Did I ever tell you how much you eat, Mark Lee? We even had a competition on who would eat the most. There was a buffet just a few kilometers outside of the city (there was a buffet in the city too, but we decided the drive could make us hungry.) Unfortunately, you won. I promise you that I didn't let you win. I shouldn't have started with those steaks.

"I can't cook," you admitted to me when we were driving back to the bed&breakfast. It was such a mundane thing to say but I remembered it. Because it was about you, Mark Lee and I wanted to know the most about you — especially knowing I might not get enough time to get to know you. In exchange for you telling me that you can't cook, I told you that I never graduated from university. You laughed.

"Is graduating university even a thing anymore? I kind of feel like those on top will just send their children to uni and then the children will send their children. They're the only ones who can afford it anyway."

This began your whole story about how you never actually bothered to go to university. Instead, you decided to be a freelancer or a landscaper... I couldn't exactly remember. We were tired, and I was focused on driving. But what I got from that was you decided to follow your dream without letting a university setting ruin that for you. I respect that, Mark Lee. Still, I told you that I kind of wanted to go back, just to finish something. It must be nice — the feeling of finishing something.

You laughed again and I couldn't help but be embarrassed. Maybe seeing how I looked made you guilty, but you laced your hands around my neck and smiled up at me.

"I hope you get to follow your dreams, Huang Xuxi," you said.

I felt tears in my eyes because I know that wouldn't happen. I mean, look at where we are now.

After a whole tour of restaurants, we finally went to the cave. I bought a disposable camera to take pictures of you. You didn't want to at first, but I promised I'd be the only one looking. So you conceded. That day was the most normal we felt. We didn't look over our shoulders to see if anyone was looking. We didn't hide our faces. Instead, we showed the world how much we love each other.

I realized I never actually told you I love you, Mark Lee.

I'll wait for when we're out and I'll shower you with I love yous, and good mornings and good nights.

Despite being the best day of my life, the whole day was a blur. I do remember going home and just spending the rest of the night together — at our most vulnerable.

That's when I realized I did love you. I didn't care if we only met around a month before that. You were the best thing that happened to me, Mark Lee.

Somehow all my sins seemed to be worth it. Because of those I met you. I will never regret meeting you.

We were asleep when they found us. You woke up first; you were always a light sleeper. You pushed me out of the bed and tried to push me out of the window. 

"I'll distract them," you told me, urging me to just go. 

But Mark Lee, what you didn't realize was that we were in this together ever since we met at the museum. 

We did things together — unspeakable things — and we would go down for it together. 

Eventually they arrested us, and took us in two different police cars. I never saw you again after that, and I never heard from you. 

When I got to the police station, they barely asked about me. Instead, the police asked about you. I clenched my fist so hard when they asked me what you told me that my palms started bleeding. I wasn't sure if I should tell them the secret you told me. In the end, I realized it didn't matter. We were already here at the place we swore we would never find ourselves in. But the past and our actions do know how to chase us, run us down, and bite us. 

"He told me he was a thief," I told them. I added that you were just like me — self-diagnosed kleptomaniacs. We weren't sick though, not really. We were just the products of an unfortunate system. They grimaced, not at all the response I thought I'd get. It seemed like they knew something that I didn't. 

~~Did you not tell me something, Mark Lee?~~

Anyhow, after questioning me about you, they asked about me, finally. They asked why I started stealing. I told them it was just easier to do than the alternative. If I work, most of the wages I get will go to food, and housing, and transportation to be able to go back to work to pay the same things. I thought food and shelters were a privilege but I realized too late that it was only privileged people who actually indulge in those benefits. ~~I wasn't privileged.~~ We weren't privileged, so we started stealing from those who are instead. 

When I got back to my cell, I wondered if they asked you the same thing. Did you tell them I was a thief too? Did you tell them my exploits at convenience stores to get us some money? My threats at restaurants to get us some food? Really, people always cower at the sight of a gun. It wasn't even loaded. 

Did you tell them about the painting I stole for you on our first night together? If you did, I hope you laughed at their faces and told them that their security was shit. 

I hope you're smiling when you read this letter.

I hope you're thinking of me too, because you're all I can think about. 

I can't wait to get out of here and see you again. 

Yours,

Xuxi

* * *

_**Dear Xuxi,** _

I'm sorry I haven't written back in days. I don't know how to tell this to you. 

I know you told me everything about yourself, but there was something I couldn't quite tell you. When I was asked something I wanted for today (they ask me this every day, as if I was being spoiled), I asked for a pen and paper to write this to you. 

I'm sorry we didn't have a goodbye, but there won't be a ‘going out’ for me anymore. Freedom is no longer a luxury I can afford — well, I really couldn’t afford much. 

But I promise you, Xuxi, whatever I kept secret from you doesn’t change the fact that you were one of the best things that happened to me too. I’m sad we couldn’t spend more time together, but the time we did spend will always be memories I will forever cherish. 

Go forth and conquer the world once you could. I hope you get to finish university like you’ve always dreamed. 

I might not be by your side anymore, but I will always be rooting for you. 

Love,

Mark Lee

PS. I really do love you, Huang Xuxi

Oh and sorry for the teardrops... it was cold.

* * *

_**Dear Mark Lee,** _

It's been eight years, and I'm finally out. I think jail was good for me, not only do I have great muscles now, but I also have a new dream.

I plan to take community college — no university will accept me anymore. But I do plan to finish that this time. I finished my eight-year sentence, college would probably be nothing.

I went back to the apartment, and it was sold. The painting isn't there anymore. I know because I went to the museum, and it was back where I took it. The security around it was still shit, but I didn't plan to steal it this time. Instead, I just stared at it. It looked better on your wall.

Mark Lee, when I got your letter, I didn't understand what you meant about not getting out, or maybe I did, I just didn't want to listen to reason.

When you told me the reason why you wanted to run away was because you committed a crime, I thought you were just a petty thief like I was. I deduced that from the amount of times we stole from convenience stores on the way to our destination during the trip eight years ago. I didn't think you would have done anything worse than that. The Mark Lee I knew wasn't capable of anything terrible.

I should've known something was odd when we saw your picture in the paper. I wanted to ask about it but instead of explaining, you just laughed it out and joked that you were famous. I knew it wasn’t as funny as you intended it to be because your smile looked strained, as if it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. You tucked the newspaper under your arms, forcing us to talk about other things so we started talking about movies that would probably be better if we were the main leads that I eventually forgot about the paper. I didn’t see it again after, maybe you threw it away. I hadn’t even read it yet.

I didn't ask them what you were in for when I got out. I did ask to visit you, but you denied me. The reason why I didn't ask, because that was your secret to tell and not theirs. And I respect you too much to break your trust.

Besides, the Mark Lee I know is already the best one I've met. I don't want anything to tarnish that.

This is my final letter to you. You don't have to write back if you don't want to. I won't wait for anything.

All my love,

Xuxi

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. Leave a comment and/or kudos if you did :)) 
> 
> Thank you to my beta who not just corrected my horrid grammar but also hyped me into getting this done on time. You're the best.


End file.
